


Perhaps

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: On the road, Prompto wakes up.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 10
Kudos: 123





	Perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He wakes up somewhere in the middle of the night, and he knows that it’s still late, because the glow through the hotel’s beige curtains is just from the faintest starlight and Gladiolus is still snoring from the other bed. Ignis is predictably silent. Noctis does tend to snore—not the full on, aggravating rumble that Gladiolus has, but something small and manageable that just tells Prompto that his best friend is lost in dreams. He can’t hear that at the moment. But he can feel something nudging between his shoulder blades that might be Noctis’ head. 

Noctis’ sleep-addled voice whispers, “Prom?” Another light head-butt, and Noctis adds, “You awake?”

Prompto tries to answer, but a yawn comes out instead. His eyes blink open to peeling wallpaper and a corner of the window. His eyes feel crusty from sleep, but he’s too tired to move and wipe it away. It’s been way too long since they had a proper hotel room. They’ve been working too hard, living too rough. Prompto still needs a shower, and so does Noctis, but he’s becoming used to the stench of their bodies. He feels the mattress shift behind him, the two of them drawn into the middle by each other’s weight. They always share when they can only afford rooms with two beds. Prompto mutters, “Yeah?”

Noctis mumbles, almost too quiet to hear, “Can I hold you?”

Prompto blinks through the darkness. He doesn’t think he heard right, which is fair—he’s barely awake. He slurs, “What?”

“I’m cold. And I had a nightmare about... y’know...” He doesn’t have to finish. Prompto can hear the pain in his voice. Prompto’s heart clenches—he _hates_ thinking about that, even though he knows it was worse for all the others. _Especially_ for Noctis. Prompto’s parents weren’t even in Insomnia, and everyone else he cares about is currently in the room with him. 

He rolls slowly around, carefully not to smack into Noctis, who’s sidled right up to him. Then he can face Noctis properly and see Noctis’ half-lidded eyes in the dim light. Prompto promises, “I’m here. You can hold me.”

Noctis lets out a long exhale. His arm snakes under the blanket, finding Prompto’s side, warm even through the thin shirt that Prompto’s worn too many days in a row. Noctis’ hand slides over him, dragging against his skin, wrinkling the fabric, and then Noctis is right up against him, holding him tight. Noctis’ forehead wedges almost painfully against his own. It should be bizarre, cuddling with the crown prince—with the _king_—but it’s not. It feels like a natural progression with how close they already are. 

If it were the middle of the day and Prompto was thinking clearly, he’d probably keep his mouth shut. But it’s not and he isn’t, so he sheepishly admits, “I might get hard if you do that.”

Noctis doesn’t even give him a chance to regret it. Noctis mutters like it’s absolutely not weird and no problem, “S’fine.”

“’k.”

Noctis squirms, which makes it worse; Prompto scrunches his eyes closed and tries not to notice all the little places where his best friend keeps bumping into him. He tries not to think about how often he used to dream of this—sharing a bed with Noctis, just under better circumstances. When Noctis talks, Prompto can feel him breathing. Noctis starts, “I know it’s not the time, but I...” Then he just sort of trails off. Prompto opens his eyes again.

He peers into Noctis’. He thinks, maybe, he understands. But he’s too much of a coward to say it. So he just creeps that little bit closer and nuzzles into Noctis’ face, mainly to see if Noctis will push him away. 

Noctis nuzzles him back, then yawns right in his face, and Prompto wants to laugh. He settles for grinning. Noctis smiles before closing his eyes. Prompto’s definitely growing uncomfortably warm, but it’s worth it. 

He decides to work up the courage and mumble, “Noct?”

But Noctis doesn’t answer, and he’s started making that noise—barely-snoring. He’s already asleep again. Prompto takes it. 

He stays bundled up in Noctis’ arms, and he sleeps too.


End file.
